Wednesday, July 25, 2007

A thought for Juan

How many of us can remember back to the good old days when we used to huddle up around the coal fire in the evenings, chatting away, playing cards, maybe a bit of rough and tumble, or just sitting and watching the goggle box.

Then mother would come in from the kitchen and slide a plate of sliced bread between us, which we would one by one, and almost without thinking, attach to the end of our forks and toast over the hot coals.

There were those of us that quite enjoyed this pastime, and we became rather proficient at the art – on with the bread and after a couple minutes and a few dextrous twists of the wrist, off would come a slice of nicely crisped and evenly browned toast.

But there were others amongst us who no matter how hard they tried simply could not come up with an evenly toasted piece of bread. One corner would be over done and the other would look like it had hardly seen the light of day.

Then there was the other category of open fire toaster who had absolutely no interest whatsoever; not in the process and certainly not in the toast. He would simply hang his piece of bread on his fork, in whatever manner it happened to end up, and then he’d poke his piece of bread somewhere in the general direction of the fire and wait until he sensed the smell of the burning bread, or he would see the flames out of the corner of his eye. Then he’d pull his charred offering away from the heat, blowing out any flames; he’d turn over what would be left of the already sorry excuse for a piece of toast to be and he’d repeat the process on the other side. When both sides had been well and truly charred, he would use the edge of his fork, or take a knife, and nonchalantly scrape off the blackened coating in to the fire. For him, it was of little consequence whether, or not the charred and scraped remains of his surrogate piece of toast had sufficient substance to support the butter and the jam that awaited it.

My friends mother was of the third category; not altogether because she had no interest in the toast, but more because she had much greater interest in a whole range of other household affairs. Anyway, the result was the same, the toast always finished up a burnt offering, which she would scrape without second a thought and put to one side ready to burn the next in line.

One day, when I was round at my friends house, his mother was waving her slice of bread in the direction of the coals, chatting with my friend and his little sister Katy, when suddenly the phone rang. In those days the phone was exclusively the parent’s domain, it was of course on a fixed line, and theirs was in the hall, as it was in most homes. So my friend’s mother had to break away from her toast to answer the phone.

Katy, who was about five years old, saw her chance to become a first time toaster, never having been trusted with the responsibility up to that time. Mummy, she excitedly exclaimed, let me do it! Mummy was already half way to the phone in the hall and without thinking she handed Katy the toasting fork, complete with its half toasted piece of bread. Katy sat in front of the fire and carefully positioned the bread up to the coals. Turning and twisting the bread, keen to make sure that her mother would be proud of her first toasting effort, Katy carefully went through the entire toasting experience.

My friend and I looked on with great interest, seeing that this was a moment Katy would remember for the rest of her life – as did most of us. Then she jumped up with a gleam across her face; more from excitement than from the heat of the fire. She ran out to the hall, where her mother was still chattering away on the phone; she waved the charred offering toward her mother and asked: “Is this ready for scraping yet?”

When I think back to that time, I find myself wondering: Why is it that those who have the opportunity to be part of worthwhile cause, so often finish up producing charred remains? Is it simply that, like Katy, they have seen that that is what is expected of them?

Katy of course learned that burning the toast is not absolutely necessary. But if others can’t, or don’t want to learn like Katy did, then maybe they could try to improve the scraping process, so that those waiting for their supper, instead of repeatedly having to stomach charred vestiges, or even worse, to going without, would be able to look forward to something altogether more appetizing.

My Time in Armenia

Living in Armenia since 1994, as a member of an Armenian family has not only been a most pleasant experience, but an ideal way to muster an insight into the Armenian Way of Life; its history, its culture, its people, the problems, the joys, and what is always foremost on peoples minds - its politics.

In1994, Armenia was a New Independent State with a recently elected President, trying to revive a collapsed economy after independence from the Soviet Union, which led to a hard-fought war over Nagorny Karabagh. At that time, Armenia was still suffered long, cold, dark winters - without gas and electricity, and Armenia’s shops were all but empty because of a virtual blockade.

My time in Armenia has been spent Writing and Implementing Humanitarian Programs; helping to Build a Precious Mineral Processing Plant; being Adviser to a Prime Minister; Managing a Program to Re-Establish theArmenian Sugar Industry, including a USTDA Feasibility Study; and later Designing and Piloting a Water Project, for Government Approval and Implementation. But my year studying the convoluted workings of the Government for aParliamentary Commission led to the realization that the Government is more akin to a State Conglomerate, with the Armenian people as its Captive Market, rather than a Custodian of State Assets, serving the needs of it’s electorate. Not surprising that Armenia did not get its sugar industry.

Today, with these experiences, and together with my Local and International Associates, we continue to fight the cause of the common folk by promoting the Establishment of a New Ethanol Industry, a Major Agricultural Development Project, to substitute the wanting sugar industry, and using the same Sugar Beets as the Agricultural Feedstock. But the road ahead is not easy; the State Dominates all worthwhile enterprise, so what may be desperately needed by Armenia’s farmers, and what may be important for real economic development, is not necessarily of value to those in power.

Armenia has come a long way since 1994, and although the economy is ‘Apparently’ booming, there is increasing anxiety that life for Armenia’s common folk is not developing altogether in the right direction?

Links to Associate Sites

Rafik and his Brother Haik – Some of their Life experiences

Rafik and his brother Haik were sitting watching the television when suddenly Rafik grabs hold of his smaller brothers arm and says - Sava Tanem - Come on Haik

Haik dutifully jumps to his feet and follows his older brother out of the door.

Where are we going? - asks Haik.

We’ve got to find a pharmacy - Says Rafik

What for? - asks Haik.

Sava Tanem - exclaims Rafik - Mirrum Jan!!

Haik runs after Rafik and eventually after asking a few friends on the street, Rafik finds a pharmacy

Inside the pharmacy, Rafik looks feverishly around the shelves.

The lady comes out from behind the counter and asks - Balik Jan - What are you looking for?

Rafik says - We need a box of Tampax!

The lady asks - Who are the Tampax for?

Rafik says - They’re for my little brother Haik.

The lady asks - How old are you?

Rafik says - I’m eight and my little brother is four.

So, Balik Jan, what do you need the Tampax for? - Asks the lady.

RafikSays - We were watching the television. An advert came on and they said that if you wear Tampax you can swim and you can ride a bicycle!

The lady says – Balik Jan, Sava Tanem, That’s right – Mirrum Jan.

Rafik exclaims – Haik can’t do either!!

Rafik and Haik doing business – Armenian style

Rafik asks his brother Haik for a loan.

Haik asks: How much?

Rafik replies: fifty thousand dollars

Haik asks: what for?

Rafik says: My best friend works at the customs in Moscow. A container of clothes has come to the customhouse without documents. They are worth 150 thousand dollars, but my friend can buy the whole consignment and have it flown to Yerevan for $50,000.

Haik asks: How long do you need the money for?.

Rafik says: Three months maximum – I have a buyer waiting in Yerevan; the whole process is agreed - I’ll give you 10% a month interest.

Haik gives Rafik the money and he goes off to get on with the deal.

Three months pass and Haik meets with Rafik to ask him for the money. Rafik explains that his friend in Moscow was having difficulty getting the goods released to Yerevan and he needs another month. Haik agrees. The month passes and the two brothers meet again. Rafik explains that the goods are already in Yerevan, but he is having trouble getting them released from customs. He asks Haik for another month. The next month passes and they meet again. Rafik explains that the goods had been released from customs, but his buyer had let him down, so he had distributed the clothes to a number of shops. He will get his money when they are sold and Rafik asks Haik for another month.

Haik says: That will be six months – at 10% a month you will owe me 50 thousand plus six months at 10% per month, which will be a total of $80,000.

The brothers meet again the next month and again Rafik makes excuses about why he can’t repay the loan.

Another month goes by and Rafik makes more excuses. Haik starts getting annoyed and says: Rafik, it is time you did something about this loan – it is already eight months. Let me have half my money back and we’ll call it quits.

Rafik starts to feel a bit affronted by his brothers attitude and asks: Haik, tell me - How much is $50,000 with eight months interest at 10%. Haik says: 90,000 dollars. Rafik then says; Today I should have owed you 90 thousand dollars Right? Haik agrees. Then Rafik exclaimed: I don’t understand why you are getting so angry. I’ve already managed to get it down to 25 thousand – what are you complaining about?

This could not be Haik and Rafik - So it is Lord Spencer

Here’s a little Ditty that I thought I’d include about Haik and Rafik – But then it came to me that this is exactly the type of story that Armenians would find offensive, whereas we Brits don’t mind making fun of ourselves. So this one is a typical example of the differences between English and Armenian humour - and it’s not about Haik and Rafik, it’s about Lord Spencer and his chauffeur.

One afternoon Lord Spencer was riding on his way home in his limousine when he saw a man bending down along the roadside. He ordered his driver to stop and he got out to talk to the man. My man, he said, What are you doing down there? The man looked up and said – I’m eating The Lord asked - But why are you eating grass?The poor man replied - I don't have any money for food, so I have to eat grass. Lord Spencer said - Well then, you can come with me to my house and I'll feed you. The man replied - But sir, I have a wife and two children with me. They are over there, under that tree. The Lord asked – What are they doing? The man said – They’re eating too In disbelief, the Lord asked – Are they eating grass too? The man replied – Yes Sir. The Lord said -Bring them along too. The man gathered his family together and as they climbed into Lord Spencer’s Limousine, he yelled – See you later Mike. Lord Spencer asked - Who is Mike? The man said - That’s my friend, he’s in among the trees. Lord Spencerasked - What is he doing? The man said - He’s eating grass. The Lord said - Well let him come with us. The man called Mike and said – Come on, were going with his Lordship for something to eat.

The man came out from the woods and said in a pitiful voice - "But sir, I have a wife and four children with me! - Lord Spencer answered - That’s not a problems, bring them all.

Mike and his wife and four children all climbed into the car, which was a bit of a squeeze, even for a car as large as the Lord’s limousine. On the way, one of the wives said to the Lord - Sir, you are so kind. Thank you for taking all of us with youThe Lord replied, Glad to do it. You'll really love my place. The grass is almost a foot high.